He Waited
by JK Robertson
Summary: Orihime lived a full life, but everybody dies someday. She never expected him to wait for her in the afterlife. Originally written for a cancelled Zine, this piece fits UlquiHime Week 2019's prompts, touch-starved and haunting pretty well. Post-canon, Canon-compliant one-shot. BIG THANK YOU TO SLYTHERKINS for Beta help!


Death had been fleeting.

Ulquiorra Cifer existed one moment and did not exist the next. There was nothing after that.

But if death was instantaneous and final, rebirth and the new life that followed was slow and mind-numbingly dull. He should not have remembered their non-goodbye. He should not have remembered disintegrating to ash.

He should not have felt compelled to wait, but he did.

* * *

Life moved on for Orihime Inoue.

She grew stronger, wiser, more self-assured. She graduated and grew up and got married. She built a life for herself and her family built on warmth and compassion and trust and love. She did not let the terrors of her past define who she became.

She never forgot, though.

Every so often, Orihime would have what her husband called a "quiet day". They would pop up unexpectedly. Orihime wouldn't smile as brightly at coffee time, letting her eyes drift to the side. She would excuse herself to be alone with her memories and regrets.

She did not dislike these "quiet days". She held them dear to her heart, in fact. These hours of self-reflection and reliving of the ache in her heart that never died were precious to her. They made her feel alive. They proved that _he_ had been alive.

Ulquiorra…

It had to happen how it happened. There was no other way. To be fully redeemed, he had to die. Still, the regret of not reaching him when he reached out haunted her. She would sit in a light moat in her room and close her eyes -as tears silently fell from them- remembering. Wishing that she had been able to touch him the way that he had touched her, and praying that, in his dying moments, he was able to see the acceptance and forgiveness in her heart.

If only he knew how much of a presence he still had in her life, all these years later. How she carried him with her each day. How, when she looked at her son or a sunset or something else she found beautiful, that she thought of him; how he would see it; how he would feel.

He had found the meaning of the heart too late to appreciate its beauty.

* * *

The seasons changed slowly in Soul Society, but the passage of time still felt long to Ulquiorra. The melting of snow and the blossoming of fruit trees only signified changes to his planting and harvesting; time as a concept had no meaning to him. He did not take part in the celebrations that marked its passing. He did not attend social gatherings. He did not, as most souls did in the Rukongai, band together with a group of other friendly souls to create a makeshift family.

He made a home for himself. He spent his days in relative solitude, busying himself with mundane tasks like tending livestock and his small garden. He still had a massive amount of spiritual pressure; unlike his most of his neighbors, he required sustenance to survive.

Ulquiorra's spiritual intensity did not escape the notice of the Shinigami that came through on recruiting missions from time to time. They would stop and eat. Ulquiorra was not stingy with the fruits of his efforts. A hungry soul was a hungry soul to him. He wasn't bothered if one needed something that he had; replenishing his stocks just gave him something to do to fill his time the next day. There was only so much communicating and solo training he could do with his Zanpakuto. There was only so much water a plant could use or a cow could drink.

The Shinigami recruitment team would always give him the same pitch. "Come on, if you came to the academy you could eat in the mess halls! You wouldn't have to do this menial work. You could use your power and go to the world of the living and slay hollows!"

"No," he would always reply. "I will wait."

* * *

A lifetime is a long time, when you live into old age. Orihime lived long enough to meet her great grandchildren. Her husband did not last as long. Her final years were a bit lonely, but she had her memories to occupy her between visits from her son and his children and their families. She often recalled the days of her youth and the fantastic battles she witnessed and took part in. When she looked into the dark brown eyes of her newest great grandchild, it was hard to imagine that so much war occurred during the same lifetime that was currently consumed by such profound peace.

She loved her life. She loved her family. She was old enough to love her mistakes and her successes, knowing that without the bad, there would not be the good.

It was just before her ninetieth birthday that she got the diagnosis. Congestive heart failure. The prognosis was unclear, but barring some other ailment, it would eventually take her life. Orihime smiled at the doctor and nodded her head. Kazui was an old man already. He was saddened, but he understood. Everyone dies. They were grateful for the time they had left together.

On a hot night in August, she took her last breath, surrounded by loved ones. She smiled before the hospice workers did their best to make her passing comfortable, and told her family how precious they were to her. She was ready.

* * *

"Oi, Cifer. There's this new guy; just joined the academy. Overpowered as hell. I bet you could take him on. Why won't you try it out? We've been coming here for decades."

Ulquiorra shook his head and sighed quietly. "I have told you and those who came before you what I will tell you again. I am waiting."

"Waiting for what?" a Shinigami whose name he did not remember asked.

"It is none of your concern," he replied, waving them off as he returned to the interior of his hut and sat down. Ichigo Kurosaki had been dead for quite some time. He had heard the stories. He had heard that the Shinigami had moved on to bigger and better things. He was moving up and garnering attention. He was well on his way to glory.

Ulquiorra had no interest in such nonsense. He waited. He knew, someday, she would come.

And then, one day, she did.

* * *

Orihime did not remember dying. She was not even sure that she remembered her name. She staggered around the woods she found herself in, dressed in rags and barefoot. She noticed that the frail, crepe-paper skin covered legs she had become accustomed to seeing had been replaced by youthful, strong limbs. Her hands bore no age spots or saggy webbing. She must have been reborn.

She walked into a clearing and paused. There was something familiar about this place, with its smattering of huts around the edges, the largest being surrounded by a large garden and a fenced-in area containing livestock. It was very, very familiar, despite the strong idea that she had certainly never seen this place before.

* * *

Ulquiorra froze. His breath caught in his throat. Orihime's arrival was not met with fanfare, nor did it distract much of anybody from their daily tasks, but to him, it was just like dying again. His world was going to change from this moment, he knew it. If the shock itself didn't trigger a breakdown of his soul (which, if the trembling of his limbs was anything to go by, was a very real possibility) then he would at least be looking at a whole new paradigm. Orihime lived -in his world.

He had to find her.

He didn't have to look far. He staggered out the door, and there she was; wandering, clearly lost and disoriented. She looked up toward the canopy that shaded the periphery of the clearing and let her gaze follow the shafts of light that filtered through the leaves. She stopped when she saw him.

"Do I know you?"

He could have wept. Her voice was exactly as he remembered. Soft, warm, Orihime.

"I know you, Woman. Come. I will tell you what you need to know."

She tilted her head slightly, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She knew that voice. She knew the silken, deep, hushed timbre. "You…" She didn't know why she did it, but she held her hand out toward him.

He stepped forward and let his fingertips brush against hers, and this time, he did weep. He tried to cough and cover the outburst, but tears that carved a path once marked by teal estigma dripped from his cheeks and he asked the question he knew the answer to, just because he needed to hear it again.

"Are you afraid of me, Woman?"

"No, I'm not afraid," she replied, concern wrinkling her brow. "Are you alright, mister…?"

"Ulquiorra. You have known me as Ulquiorra Cifer, and I have known you as Orihime Inoue," he whispered, blinking and wiping his face with the back of his free hand. "I've been waiting for you for a long time. I've prepared a home for you. I hope you'll be comfortable, here-"

"With you?" she asked, her eyes round and searching.

"Yes."

A grin. "Good."

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you like my stories, please let me know.


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